All moms are "working moms," I just happen to be salaried.

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Dear Isis, F&*#(* You very much you ancient goddess of fertility, you ideal mother and wife, you patroness of nature and magic. Is it true what Wikipedia says, were you friend of slaves, sinners, artisans,the downtrodden, AND you listened to the prayers of the wealthy, maidens, aristocrats, and rulers? Isis, a girl can truly have it all, can’t she?

Gosh, you’d think I’m all fiery while I’m writing this but I’m not.

If you’re a Bostonian you probably think of Isis Parenting when the ancient Egyptian goddess is mentioned. That’s because our great local hospitals outsource L&D (labor and delivery, guys!) classes, & all related parenting classes to Isis. Yes, that includes breastfeeding. Most grownups probably think it would be easy to feed from a breast. Not so, I assure you. Not so.

And then once you’ve had your little bundle of tears, screams, and poopy, you join the new moms classes (for dads too!). And you bond and you connect and you make friends, and you laugh and you cry. You already know this if you read this blog post.

Isis classes are great … Unless or until you start feeling like the odd man out for your lack of, should I say, fertility!

I’ve recently received a few distress signals from a friend – distress signals that I can relate to, because a large number of moms from her Isis group are expecting or have given birth to their second child. Now, to be clear, none of these moms are MAKING her feel bad, just as none of my Isis homegirls have made me feel bad for putting the breaks on Giller #2. We make OURSELVES feel like shit!

On Passover the youngest child begins “The Four Questions” with “Why is tonight different than all other nights?” To which my friend and I ask, “Why is my approach to family planning different from all other moms?” Are we crazy?

All I can come up with is – we all have a different approach. None right, none wrong. Maybe my friend and I (and millions of other women, I expect … moms? you out there?) decide to add a member to our family, in lieu of “let’s create a big family” or at least “let’s add a few members.” Maybe we’re toe-dippers. Maybe one kid fills us up, freaks us out; makes us question the whole “can we handle another” type of thing. Maybe we’re still trying to get the hang of the whole full-time work/family/life balancing act. Maybe we’re comforted that time is on our side.

For whatever reason, the procreation activities of other moms causes us to get mad at ourselves on occasion, and question ourselves, our parenting skills, our approach to family, etc. It’s not you guys, it’s us!

Oh, I guess it doesn’t help we’ve got the Russian contingent on our backs. Kak Uzhasnah!!